Broke: (2 page)

Chapter
Two

Jersey
twirled the dial on the lockbox.
A
fter a couple of tries,
she
got
it
open
.
When a sudden wind whipped up behind them,
Immy
stuck her hands in the pocket
s
of her sweater
to
keep them
warm. The door
creaked as it swung open.

At first Immy thought
the
huge
hallway was filled with piles of snow. It was
nearly
cold enough outside for snow. Cold enough inside, t
o
o. But the mounds were sheets, covering furniture that the owner must have left behind.
There was a slight musty smell, but Immy didn
'
t think it was too bad. She was getting used to having a pig in her backyard and smells didn
'
t bother her like they used to.

Jersey frowned.
"
I haven
'
t
been inside this one before. I had no idea
the owner left all this crap here. I
'
ll have to speak to him about that.
"

"
Whose ghost is here?
"
asked Immy.
"Is that what's making that noise?"

Jersey blew out a breath of exasperation.
"
There isn
'
t really a ghost. That
'
s only
a rumor. There
'
s no such thing as a ghost.
And the faucet in the powder room drips.
"
Jersey motioned toward a door standing ajar
. Immy spied
a small half bath
through the door,
near the front
of the house
.

A scraping sound seemed to come from deeper inside the
building
. Jersey paled. Immy
'
s heart quickened. Would she meet a ghost today?

Jersey swallowed audibly.
"
I
'
ll show you the house and you can ignore the furniture. I
'
ll get it all cleaned out.
"

"
If no one wants it, you can leave it here. I don
'
t have any furniture.
"

"
Don
'
t y
ou
think you
should look at it first
?
"

Immy lifted one of the dust covers, revealing a floral brocade settee. It
was most likely
stiff and uncomfortable, but
maybe
any couch would be better than none. She lifted another cover and found a footstool.

"
Oh look,
"
she said.
"
The cover is needlepoint. I
think it's
handmade.
"
Her mother, Hortense, would love to see that. Maybe she
'
d give this stool to her. Hortense was not happy about Immy moving out, so a peace offering would not be a bad idea.

Jersey tapped an impatient foot.
"
Let
'
s see the rest
of the rooms
and get out of here. It
'
s cold.
"

Immy thought something else
might be
making Jersey want to leave--a ghost?

The
ceiling was
three stories
above them. The front wall had
mullioned windows on the first two stories,
small oriels
pooching outward
on the third. The
glass was
so
murky and dirty that
hardly any light came through. Immy tried a wall switch and a fantastic, but dust-covered, crystal chandelier shed a dim light
onto the hardwood floor
.

"
Oh good,
"
said Jersey.
"
The power
'
s on at least. I don
'
t see a thermostat, though
. We could
warm it up
in here if I could find it
.
"

It was warmer in
the house th
an
it was
outside.
But
the temperature
was in the thirties today,
cold for October
,
and
Jersey was very right. I
t
wasn't warm in the house
.
They wandered through a
dark
paneled dining room, a large kitchen with two islands and a breakfast nook, and a library
with
a faded oriental rug and
shelves so tall there was a ladder to reach the top ones. The books, however, did not look like they were in good shape. Still, Hortense
, being a retired librarian and a huge book lover,
might want to explore them.
The
small powder room
Immy had noticed earlier
nestled off the library. A steady plink
still
sounded from the drippy faucet.

"
Do you want to see more?
"
said Jersey when they
'
d seen the complete first floor.

"
I
'
d better see the whole thing before I sign anything.
"

"
You
'
re
really still
thinking of taking this?
"

Immy nodded.
"
I like it.
"

Jersey shook her head slightly, but led the way up the cu
rving staircase. A balcony overhung
the main hall. Immy thought it might be dangerous for Drew, but she
'
d
have to make sure Drew knew not to lean on it. Or climb on it. Maybe Ralph could construct something to make it safer. He was good with his hands.

Another rasping sound came from down the hallway. Immy peered into the darkness. Was that a sudden flash of light in the gloom?
Had she
seen the ghost
?

"
Who is the ghost supposed to be of?
"
she asked.

"
The
widow
woman who died here. Old Mrs. Tompkins lived here all alone for years and years after her husband died. After she
kicked the bucket
, her nephew, Geoffrey Tompkins
,
inherited this dump, I mean this place.
I don't know if he ever
lived here, though. It
'
s been empty for a few years.
"

"
So Mr. Tompkins is the owner?
"

Jersey nodded, then flinched at another of those mysterious sounds. It
was coming from one of the bedrooms down the hall.
This time it
sounded like someone snoring.

"Would you be willing to take something off the rent if I exorcise the house?"

At Jersey's blank
face
, Immy rephrased. "You know
,
if I get rid of the ghost?"

Jersey
's harsh
laugh
sent puffs of breath into the air
. "If you can prove there's a ghost here and if you can prove you got rid of it, we'll talk."

Jersey led Immy into the first bedroom. It wa
s bare
of furnishings
. S
trips of sad, striped wallpaper dropped off t
he walls. The second bedroom held two dressers, one with a round mirror and a kneehole. A narrow bed with a faded coverlet was shoved against the wall. Next, t
hey inspected a bathroom
between those two bedrooms
with an old-fashioned pedestal sink and a claw-footed bathtub.

Then they made their way to the third bedroom. Immy was pretty sure the sound was coming from it. Jersey hung back
and let
Immy open the door. The room reeked of alcohol. It held
a
four-poster
bed,
an armoire,
and
an
ornate carved
chest of drawers
. And--
Immy took a second look
--
a man sleeping in the bed.

He sat up, his eyes wide with alarm.

Immy and Jersey
both jumped
back.

Chapter Three

There was something about that guy in the bed, Immy thought. For one thing, he looked out of place in a four-poster
, wearing nothing but boxers
. He had a cowboy look about him that would go better with a bunkhouse. His lean face was weathered, but pale. It looked like
he
'
d
gotten a lot of sun
in his life
, but not recently. For another thing, he looked kind of familiar. But Immy couldn
'
t think where she
'
d seen him
,
in the commotion that followed.

When he stirred, Immy recognized the rasping sound in the bedsprings. He must have been turning over, or tossing
when she'd heard some of those earlier spooky sounds
.

The guy grabbed a pair of jeans off the floor and jumped into them, then snatched a flannel shirt off the foot of the bed. Never said a word.

Jersey made up for his silence.
"
What in the hell are you doing in
here
? You filthy bum! Get your stinkin
'
carcass outta here before I call the cops.
"

The man nodded and walked toward them.

"
Get away from me,
"
Jersey screamed.
"
I
'
m callin
'
the cops right now.
"
She whipped her phone out and started punching 9-1-1.

The guy stopped, cleared his throat.
A cloud of liquor fumes hit Immy.
"
I
'
m leaving, ma
'
am. If you
'
ll step aside, I
'
ll just go on out the door.
"

That sounded reasonable to Immy, but Jersey was still panicking
, her polished veneer cracking like a thin-shelled egg
. She not only stepped aside, she pressed herself
tight
against the wall.
"
Don
'
t touch me,
"
she yelled as the poor wretch ducked his head and scurried out into the hallway.

Immy heard his soft footsteps d
escending
the carpeted stairway, then the creak of the front door as he left.
The aroma of whiskey
left a trail
behind him.

"
No,
you need to come now
,
"
Jersey was saying.
"
No one
'
s hurt, but he
'
s getting away.
"
She gave the address.
"
Yes, I
'
ll stay on the line.
"

Sirens sounded within minutes and the two women met the police
on
the front
porch
. Jersey
ran onto the main sidewalk and
pointed at the vagrant, half a block away and walking slowly. One of the officers
took off
after him and soon brought him back.

"
This him?
"
asked the
police
man who had the vagrant by the arm.

Jersey peered at the police badge.
"
Yes, Officer Hadlock, that
'
s
the one. Arrest him, please, for trespassing.
"

Officer Hadlock? Immy had run into the man
. Last
summer.
Yes, those were his frowning eyebrows.
N
ot wanting the policeman to remember her
, s
he stepped back and let Jersey do all the talking.

"
What were you doing there?
"
asked the
second
officer, giving the
vagrant
a grim expression
.

"
I, I stayed the night. There were three of
us
last night. We
got together to, well, we
were all drinking.
"

"
Yes, we know that,
"
Jersey said
.

Officer Hadlock shot her a glance
that said,
Shut up, lady
.

"
Names of the other two?
"
asked the policeman who was not Officer Hadlock.

"
Lyle Cisneros and, and a guy
he called Grunt
. Friend of Lyle
'
s.
"
The guy was
barely able to stand. Immy wondered if he was going to be okay.

"
How do you know Cisneros?
"
The officer was writing in a notebook.

The miscreant hung his head.
"
Lyle was my cellmate.
"

The policemen exchanged charged look
s
.

"Where was that?" asked one of them.

"Allblue."

The third house Immy had looked today at had been too close to that prison, she'd thought.

"
And what
'
s your name, buddy?
"
asked Officer Hadlock.

"
Dwight Duckworthy.
"

Duckworthy! He looked a bit like old photos of Immy's father, Louis.
Immy made an anguished sound and the policemen swiveled
their heads
toward her.

"
That
'
s right,
"
Hadlock
said
,
peering
at her more closely
.
"
You
'
re a Duckworthy, aren
'
t you?
"

"
Imogene,
"
she said, her voice small, wishing she were somewhere else. This
criminal
must be related to her
.

Th
e
man
raised his head and peered at her.
"
Yeah, you do look like the family.
If you're the daughter of o
ne of my brother
s,
I
'
m your Uncle Dewey.
"

Immy opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Good thing, because she couldn't think of a word to say.

Dewey finished telling the cops that he couldn
'
t remember much of what happened last night. When he fell asleep--Immy thought that might mean when he passed out--the other two were
still
there
, though they seemed to be gone now
. The guy
named
Grunt
had let them in the back
way
.

The cops hustled
the guy who was probably
Immy
'
s Uncle Dewey into the
rear
seat of Hadlock
'
s cruiser and, after saying they
'
d contact the
two women
if they needed
statements or
more information, drove away.

That
'
s why the guy had
seemed
familiar. He greatly resembled Immy
'
s dead father, Louis Duckworthy, a Wymee Falls cop who was shot and killed
ten years ago,
when she was twelve. Her Uncle Huey, who had died less than a year ago, hadn
'
t resembled his brothers.
Took more after his dumpling of a mother.
Immy had never been certain there was another brother.
She'
d
heard things, but h
er mother was reluctant to talk about him. Probably because of the prison thing, she figured now. When she got home, she
'
d cross-examine Hortense.

Jersey and Immy went back inside and Immy walked
through the house again,
this time making it to the
third story
. It was divided into smallish rooms that lined up behind the railing. Immy stepped up to it and peeked over at the floor of the
entry hall
, far below. Her palms prickled and her heart sped at the distance.
She had a teensy touch of fear of heights, after all.
Each room had one or two of the oriel windows. In some the mini bays were outfitted with cushioned window seats. Several of the rooms were crowded with furniture and boxes, but some were empty of furnishings. None were empty of dust and cobwebs.

They finished up
downstairs,
in
the kitchen,
at
the rear
of the house
.
It was apparent, now that they knew, that someone had been here last night. A couple of whiskey bottles poked out from under the lid of the wastebasket. A damp towel hung on the sink.
Jersey
waved a hand in front of her face.
"
I might have to fumigate this place now.
"

Immy sniffed, but couldn
'
t smell anything beyond musty old vacant house
, and a
fading,
faint odor of liquor
.
"
That
'
s all right. I
'
ll take care of everything.
"

Jersey stared at her.
"
You mean you
still
want this place?
"

Did she? It was her only option if she wanted to leave Saltlick and live in Wymee Falls with Drew and Marshmallow. No other properties, other than the three she didn
'
t like and couldn
'
t afford, would allow the pig. Immy stepped to the window
above the sink
, overlooking the back
yard.
"
How much property is there?
"

Jersey pulled a folder out of her briefcase and ran a red-polished nail down a sheet of paper.
"
About a third of an acre.
"

"
That
'
s a good-sized yard.
" Not a lot of grass, but that was all right. "
Would
Mr. Tompkins
mind if I built a fence?
"
Marshmallow would have to have a sturdy fence. Pigs are good at getting out of places.

Jersey shrugged.
"
I can ask him. Let
'
s go back to the office. I
'
ll call the owner and, if you want to rent, you can fill out the paperwork today.
"

Maybe Jersey was being a little pushy, but Immy was anxious to get the deal done, too, so that was okay.

On the way to the strip mall, Jersey muttered non-stop about
"
the nerve of some people
"
and
"
damn, filthy homeless
"
and
"
vagrant, squatter
"
. He hadn
'
t looked filthy to Immy, but he probably was homeless.
Had Jersey not caught on that the guy was related to her? Immy
wondered how long he
'
d been out of prison, the Allblue Unit in Wymee Falls. Strange to think she
had
had an uncle living so close
when she didn't even
know for sure that he existed.

Another agent was in the office
when they returned
. Immy
halted
and stopped breathing for a couple of seconds. The guy was gorgeous.

He turned his head of wavy black hair
toward her
and lifted deep, dark, chocolate eyes that made something inside her turn to liquid. Immy
groped behind her for Jersey
'
s side chair and
plopped
into it
.

"
Hi,
"
he said, his voice smooth and deep.
"
I
'
m Vance Valentin.
"